


Up for Anything

by AlynnaStrong



Series: Love in the Time of Dragons [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childbirth, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Rare Pairings, Same-Sex Marriage, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-04 06:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11549085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlynnaStrong/pseuds/AlynnaStrong
Summary: AU where Queen Daenerys sits the Iron Throne after a successful invasion of Westeros.  Our leading couple, Brienne of Tarth and Yara Greyjoy readjust to life in their homeland and plan for their future together.





	1. Chapter 1

As Commander of the Queen’s Guard, Brienne made a point of standing behind Queen Daenerys in the small council chamber. Tyrion, Varys, and the others sat at the table, but she wanted to always be ready to respond to any threat.

There seemed little danger of a threat today, granted. The Kingdoms had peace, at least for the moment. The Houses of Lannister and Baratheon were vanquished, all but for Tyrion, Dragon-rider, of course. As hand of the queen, and infamous hater of his sister, he was excused his former last name. No one was entirely sure where his siblings had vanished. If Brienne happened to occasionally receive unsigned notes carried by various merchant seamen, she didn’t see that as anyone else’s business.

Yara was in the room, so Brienne was smiling. It was an involuntary response at this point. She had been head-over-heels in love practically since they met many months ago in Essos. Admittedly, Yara first had to get past some you-want-to-do-what-with-me-now confusion borne of naivete and self-doubt, but the feelings had been there all along. Luckily, Yara's daring nature hadn't shrunk from the challenge, and she'd managed to sneak inside her armor, so to speak.

Admiral Greyjoy was on hand to report on her success in reopening shipping channels to the south. When Daenerys’ rule began, there had been much piracy off the coasts due to the chaos. Yara had managed to sink, subdue, or recruit the worst of the pirates so that trade was beginning to flourish again. Fighting was still going on in the north, near the Iron Islands, however. Yara had hoped that her brother, Theon, sitting as her regent on the Seastone Throne, could resolve the matter, but he’d not yet proven equal to the task.

“If it please Your Grace, I would like to send my lieutenant Karl as envoy to my brother to inquire what the screaming hell he thinks he’s playing at, sitting with his thumb up his ass while pirates rob us blind.”

“That would be well, Yara,” Daenerys tried to tame her smile. She’d been amused by her plain-spoken admiral since the day she showed up at her doorstep with ships in tow and offered an alliance. “We could even spare you to go yourself. Take your wife, if you’d like. Perhaps she would enjoy seeing your homeland.”

Brienne’s eyes bugged out behind Daenerys. Yara held her gaze, trying to communicate ‘It’s you she’s talking about; calm down; no one needs to die today.’

“Your Grace, we’re not married,” Brienne spoke up tentatively.

“No? Why not?”

“The faith of the Seven forbids,” Brienne mumbled.

“Well then, don’t be married in a sept. Here, I’ll do it. Brienne, do you wish to be wed to Yara?”

“I do, but I also took vows to-“

“To take no husband. I recall. And?”

“Uh.”

Tyrion spoke up, “Also, not to sire children. So I guess that won’t be a problem.”

“Yara, do you wish to wed Brienne?”

“With all my heart.”

“Well then, I pronounce you married. Kiss and pledge your love.”

They did, awkwardly. Brienne rather wished she’d had some notice. She wasn’t even wearing a ceremonial cloak. Oh gods! Her father was going to kill her for not letting him know ahead of time. And after all the trouble she’d given him about proposals.

“Tyrion, best tell the kitchen to arrange for a wedding feast tonight.” Daenerys grinned wickedly, “I’ve always wanted to see a Westerosi-style bedding.”

“Your Grace, please, no,” Brienne said.

“You prefer to celebrate in the style of the Dothraki? Under the stars, with the khalasar cheering you on? I can arrange that.”

“No, I mean, I would rather, the first thing then,” she babbled.

“Wonderful. I had feared today was going to be boring.”

“You’re as bad as she is,” Brienne said. “Your Grace,” she amended, habitually polite.

As Daenerys was preparing to leave, Brienne quietly asked Tyrion, “Was that legal, what she just did?”

Tyrion shrugged. “She’s the queen. I think she gets to decide what’s legal. You didn’t complain when she knighted you.”

“It’s the spirit of the matter. Clearly the oath means not to wed.”

“It’s not the oath she would have written. She used it out of tradition. Be happy, Brienne. That’s all she wants.”

For her part, Yara whispered a question to Daenerys, “Was that true about the Dothraki?”

“The under the stars part is. It’s actually quite romantic. I may have exaggerated the other.”

 

Brienne was only self-conscious for about 2/3 of the feast. It was hard for her to believe that all these people really wished her well. Sure, everyone knew about their relationship, but they couldn’t really sanction it, could they? The Dothraki, she supposed, didn’t care. Nor the Unsullied. Nor the Ironmen, who’d follow Yara into the Smoking Sea if she asked. The Dornish…appreciated variety. Actually, that was pretty much everyone. Brienne was so used to being judged she didn’t know how to handle the freedom.

To the shock of absolutely no one, especially her bride, Yara dove headlong into the bedding ceremony. She encouraged her crew with the bawdiest jokes Brienne had ever heard. Being sailors, they gave back as good as they got, to the point that Brienne wondered how she’d ever look any of them in the eye again.

The Dothraki, on the other hand, were not eager participants in the ritual. They had rules apparently about touching another ko’s woman. Since they were both women, but also both lieutenants, or kos, the Dothraki didn’t know what to do. Their khaleesi had to sternly warn them (a mood quite undone by her laughter) that Brienne’s honor was at stake. Daenerys finally convinced them that they were the only ones strong enough to carry and strip the Lady Commander.

It was thoroughly embarrassing. Brienne had to remind herself that she was not a maid, that it had been quite some time since Yara had first brought her to incoherent ecstasy at the pyramid in Meereen. They had done the deed any number of times since then, in a variety of configurations. She really had nothing left to feel shy about in front of her…wife. But here they were.

“Y’think they’re listening?” Yara asked.

If Brienne hadn’t considered it before, she certainly was now. Actually, she was pretty sure it wasn’t just her imagination that detected murmuring figures crouched behind their door. “I think so,” she whispered.

“Do you want to give them a show or sneak out the window?”

“Sneak out? We don’t have any clothes on.”

“So? It’s dark. It’s our wedding night; we’re going to consummate one way or the other. I just figured you might like it to be more private.”

 

The climb down from their room was not difficult, though it would have been a whole lot stealthier if Yara could stop giggling. They came down in a courtyard that was at the edge of the Godswood. Brienne hoped what they were about to do wasn’t blasphemous.

Her bare rump hit the ground. “It’s cold. Why do I have to be on the bottom?” she murmured into Yara’s neck.

“Because if you’re crushing me, I can’t do this,” she said nudging Brienne’s thighs apart and making it abundantly clear where she intended to put her mouth. “Don’t worry. You won’t be cold long.”

That was a pretty compelling argument, Brienne had to admit as she felt a thrill travel down her spine and take root in her sex. She groaned as Yara tasted her; heart starting to pound. This wasn't their first time outside, or where they could be seen, or even where people for damn sure were going to hear her. _Oh gods. I'm pretty sure she gets off on that, and I kind of think I might, too._ Yara was so good with her mouth, too good. She was only using her tongue, alternately swirling over her nub then latching on and sucking hard. The sound of Brienne's pleasure grew louder and more insistent until it finally ended in a choked squealing noise. Yara looked up from her endeavor to see Brienne with a hand clamped over her mouth.

“Now quit that. It sounds like I’m hurting you. What, did somebody forget she was a screamer?”

“... Yes,” Brienne didn’t particularly think this was funny, but it was hard not to match Yara’s wide smile. “You make me forget myself all the time.”

“Well, it’s my wedding night, and the only present I want is to hear my name echoing through this courtyard. That’s not too much to ask, yeah?”

“No…but-”

“You have got to stop worrying so much about other people. Don’t think about anything else, just what’s going on between your legs. Now, are you going to smother me with those rock hard thighs of yours or let me get back to it?”

Fine, if she was going to put it like that. Yara never demanded, but she did ask very persuasively.

Brienne spread her legs wider and lifted her hips to allow easier access. She could smell her own arousal in the still evening air. Yara swept her tongue into the inner folds of her lower lips, making sure to reach every sensitive bit. When Brienne leaned back and started to moan, Yara pushed her tongue inside her a few times as fair warning, then went to work with her fingers.

First one, then a second of Yara's dexterous fingers entered her new bride. Brienne moaned at the sudden rush of pleasure, fighting the urge to quiet herself. Yara knew all the best areas inside Brienne through long practice, but was content to tease her for a while with slow strokes in and out as she felt the tension building.

Brienne's heels started to dig into the ground as she squirmed for relief. A few 'Yes's' had hissed out so far, but that wasn't good enough for Yara. She reattached her mouth to Brienne's clit, engulfing it and trapping it with her tongue.

"Yes -- Ya-Yara," Brienne said. She wasn't yelling yet, but she was getting there.

Keeping her mouth engaged, Yara pulled out of her wife's core and reentered with three fingers, this time aimed straight at her most reliable spot.

"AAH! Yes!"

"Who? Who makes you feel this way?" Yara twisted and curled her fingers so as to leave no room for conscious thought. Brienne's body responded, powerful muscles squeezing, wetness slipping out to puddle in Yara's palm. She thrashed, eyes shut tight and head thrown back. 

"Yara! YARA!" The blinding force of the orgasm left Brienne's ears ringing. Or it could have been the yelling. _Gods, it was probably the yelling._

Finally satisfied, Yara slowed her relentless pressure and helped ease her off her peak. Tenderness replaced urgency, and Yara kissed her way up from mound, to breasts, to mouth. 

They held each other for a few minutes before Yara saucily asked, "Are you ready to go again?" 

 "This time it's your turn to yell. I haven't gotten my present yet," Brienne teased.

 "But Brienne's kind of a mouthful. Can I call you wife?" Yara asked. Brienne kissed her neck. "Or woman?" The kisses moved to her breasts. "Whore?" The kiss turned to a gentle bite.

 "You'll think of something," Brienne murmured. The kisses were at Yara's belly.

She did. (It was 'Love'). 

 

> Dear Wench,
> 
> I do hope your treason is going well. Does the city still have that freshly-sacked smell? I jest, of course, but do keep a close watch on your soul. The city has been known to devour them whole.
> 
> I have a bit of news myself. My sister’s getting fat. For the fourth time, if you know what I mean. Perhaps a fresh start is good for us all.
> 
> In all seriousness, do keep an eye out for little hints of the family malady, such as paranoia, delusions, storing vast quantities of wildfire around the city. Rumor has it this one actually wouldn’t burn.

 


	2. Chapter 2

In the week following their wedding, Brienne and Yara prepared for their journey to Pyke. It was to be a combination honeymoon and yelling at Theon session, so Yara was doubly excited. Dressing down her little brother was always fun, and she had to make sure he would fight back. Reek needed to stay dead and buried. She was unsure how Brienne would take to the Iron Islands, though. Yara appreciated their desolate beauty, but they were no Sapphire Isle.

Brienne spent the time fussing over Daenerys like a mother hen. By the time they were due to set sail, Daenerys was almost hoping for an assassination attempt, just to give the woman something to do. The Red Keep had never been more secure, the queen’s guard more attentive, or the servants more cowed. Daenerys was grateful, of course, that her Lady Commander took her oaths so seriously, but at some point you had to allow that some events were controlled by fate. Even aside from her Westerosi allies, she had the unquestioning loyalty of thousands of Dothraki, thousands more Unsullied, and her three dragons. If she wasn’t safe in her own castle under those conditions, she was no queen at all.

The assistant maester brought in several messages that had arrived by raven. The southern part of her kingdom was solidifying nicely. Dorne had gone over to her side right away, as soon as her ships had come in force. The Reach, the Vale, and the Storm Lands surrendered once King’s Landing fell. Only the west fought until the bitter end at Casterly Rock. The North was an unaddressed problem. It was too huge a territory to take in one blow, and Daenerys needed time to consolidate her gains. At present there were too many raiders and bandits plaguing her nascent kingdom. If she didn’t control the chaos, it would spread.

The other letters were mainly pledges of fealty from houses too distant to have sent a representative to bend the knee, though there was a message from Tarth addressed to her Lady Commander. She passed it over unopened, hoping its contents were kinder than she feared. Lord Tarth’s disapproval of his daughter’s romance had rubbed Daenerys the wrong way. Yara made Brienne so happy. Why should he mind? She hoped she had made things better rather than worse by marrying them.

 

Brienne found Yara lounging in her admiral’s quarters, which had effectively become their shared rooms. As Commander of the queen's guard, Brienne was entitled to the top floor of the White Tower. It had a lovely view of the sea. However, she felt it would be impolitic to move her wife into that room while the men living below her were sworn not to marry. She hoped the queen would write a new set of the vows for the queen’s guard soon. She couldn’t help herself; she didn’t like to break the rules, even on orders – just short of orders – of the queen.

Brienne showed Yara that she had a letter from Tarth, holding it at arms length as if she feared it would bite her. Yara watched a number of different emotions play out across her wife’s usually stoic face: trepidation, relief, sadness, fondness, and finally surprise.

Figuring the balance was to the good there, Yara asked, “So how pissed is he?”

“He’s more surprised, I think. A bit flustered.” ( _Runs in the family_ , Yara thought). “Towards the end, he invited us to visit once things settle down. I’ll make your apologies. I know you didn’t like it there.”

“I didn’t like it because he kept us apart at night.” She stood to encircle her wife’s waist in her arms. “He has no excuse now.”

Brienne could imagine all too vividly how that would go. Passionate love-making in the evening followed by awkward meals the next day. Evenfall was not that large a castle. At least this time it would be in a bed. Yara had diligently sought out every moderately untrafficked nook in the castle last time, from the wine cellar to the attics. (She could almost hear Jaime: ‘untrafficked nooks are her specialty’).

“He’s making Luthur Wrath his heir. A fairly distant cousin, no actual Tarth blood. That’s – I mean, he was really very nice about it – but I think that’s what’s bothering him. Before you, he could always hope that someday he would have a grandchild. I know you’ve given up more to serve Queen Daenerys, but me accepting appointment to the queen’s guard and leaving him without an heir was quite a blow.”

Yara had to roll her eyes. _Honestly, this wife of mine. She still thinks I gave up my throne to serve the queen._ She embraced her a little tighter.

“Are you saying you want to have a baby? Because we can do that.” _Shit, Theon is going to need an heir as well. We might need to make this a priority._

“It’s certainly fun to try, but it hasn’t worked so far.” Brienne disentangled herself from Yara. If she knew her recent history, this was headed in a horizontal direction with some speed, and she wasn’t in the mood just now.

“I’m not messing about. Seriously, if you want a baby, we’ll get us a baby.”

“You don’t mean kidnapping do you? You promised the queen to stop that, and you’ve been doing so well.”

“No, I mean a few clumsy encounters with a gentleman of your choice. At your age, timed right, it won’t take more than that.”

Brienne’s emotions coiled themselves into a tangle to the point that she froze up. She tried to say something, but no words would come out.

“It don’t hurt. Won’t even feel that different.”

Brienne was able to squeak out a few random noises.

“There’s no rush,” Yara said finally noticing Brienne’s distress. “Just, think about it and keep your eyes open for someone who catches your fancy.“

“You want me to…with some man, and…why me!?” Brienne voice crescendoed to a yell as it thawed.

“You said Tarth blood, right? But if it’ll make you feel better, we can do it together. Y’know, the three of us.”

Brienne wide blue eyes met Yara’s. Her voice came out shaky, terrified but trusting. “You should want to be there for the conception, I would think.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. We’ll do it that way, then.” Yara couldn’t believe how smoothly that had gone over. This must not just be about duty for her; she really wanted a family.

“What about…do you think Daenerys will still have me as Commander of the queen’s guard if I’m with child?”

“I don’t see why not. Some bloke did it with one hand for years. Say, any idea where he is? He owes you a favor, yeah?”

“No, no idea.” It was true; the brief notes she received came from a variety of ports and never gave any location details. Likewise, when she sent a return letter with the carrier, she had no way of knowing where it went.

“He has a brother.”

“I was thinking maybe someone with dark hair. Like yours.”

“Think we’ll fool ‘em, do you? I promise you, I’ll love any baby of yours no matter what who it looks like.”

 

Their voyage to Pyke was swift and clear, arriving on a crisp autumn day that made the castle, ancient and lichen-encrusted though it was, look majestic. Yara seemed to know everyone at the port, often running off to exchange ribald jokes or complicated greetings with long-absent friends. Whenever Brienne was nearby, Yara would introduce her. After a while, she figured out that the standard words ‘my wife, Brienne of the Southern Island Tarth’ were meant to show that, while she wasn’t an Ironborn, she was at least an island girl, not one of those soft mainlanders.

Theon greeted them at the entrance to the great gatehouse. He bowed low first to Yara, “My Queen,” and then to Brienne, “Princess Consort Brienne.”

“What?” Brienne squawked.

“It’s the right title. I had the maester check when we got the news.” Theon looked back and forth between them, eager to please as a puppy.

“Ha! You outrank your father,” Yara laughed. The Ironborn had their own ways and for the most part ignored noble titles, but Yara would call her Princess Brienne if it brought a smile to her face. She wanted to rest an arm each on Theon and Brienne’s shoulders, but sadly, her wife was too tall for that. She had to settle for their waists, reminiscent of how she’d brought Theon home for the first time since the Starks took him.

There were many more people inside the castle necessitating many more introductions. Brienne’s head was spinning by the end of it. She was grateful, though, because it gave her a refreshing new perspective. The love Yara had for her people shone clear, bright, and present. It was solidly different from the way her father, and all the other southern lords, approached governance. She knew her father cared for their smallfolk and took seriously his solemn duty to make decisions in their best interests. It was impersonal, though. How many of their names did he know? Their children’s talents? With how many of them could he exchange highly inappropriate dirty stories? _Oh gods, that one was about me._

They eventually made their way across three increasingly rickety bridges to the solar in the Sea Tower. This was the oldest part of the castle, out past where parts had already collapsed into the sea. The view was breathtaking, with large windows showing so much of the horizon that visitors felt they were floating above the ocean.

Yara’s desire to yell at Theon about the pirate situation had all but faded in her joy to see him looking hale and healthy again. She also had to give him credit for the effort he had put into easing the Ironborn through their transition to something more peaceable. It was working, in fits and spurts at least. _I’m going soft. It’s only been a few months since I’ve seen him. We went years before._

“So, little brother, tell me why you and over 100 longships can’t keep the pirates out of the Sunset Sea. Daenerys’ west coast is lousy with raiders.”

“I have a lot on my plate keeping Ironman’s Bay locked down,” Theon replied defensively. “Can’t Daenerys patrol her own waters by now?”

“Oh come off it. We’re allies and she’s asking for our expertise. Send some of the fleet south. It’s like raiding that’s not really raiding. The men would love it.”

“It’s weird, Yara, they’re not regular pirates. Our ships aren’t worth that much against them. They flee inland, upriver rather than out to sea. They’ve got these tiny little skiffs. They’re fast. They don’t care about capturing other ships; they don’t even much care about getting all the loot. They just do quick hits and scurry off.”

“Sounds like it’s about disruption for its own sake rather than plunder,” Brienne said.

“That’s true. This may be a whole different game. Very well, Brother, we’ll take one ship packed full of our toughest raiders plus half again as many to supplement my crew on the _Black Wind_. We’ll sail down the coast and track those bastards back to their hideout. I smell politics in all this.”

 

> Dear KS,
> 
> I updated your page in the White Book. I wrote it all, so that every Lord (or Lady) Commander hereafter can know the truth. You won’t thank me, and it won’t help you, but you’re welcome anyway.
> 
> I rejoice in hearing of your new addition. I wish your paramour _[a different word had been scratched out and replaced here at least twice]_ good health and happiness.
> 
> The queen married myself and my paramour by royal decree. It took us both by surprise, but if this is a sign of the family madness, perhaps it is a more pleasant strain.

 


	3. Chapter 3

As the largest port city in the west, Lannisport was the natural place to begin investigating the strange raiders that Theon said were plaguing the west coast. Initial reports from sailors in the region were that the pirates were ordinary looking men. They attacked in small, heavily armed skiffs usually foundering a ship at the water line, then carrying off any light, valuable cargo while leaving the rest to sink or be salvaged. Brienne got the impression that there must be a great number of them, yet no one seemed to know where they hid themselves.

After several days of fruitless investigation, Yara offered a different approach. “You keep doing what you're doing, talking to all the official people and showing public concern, right? Let them know that the queen is going to protect them and this will all be over soon. In the meantime, I'll have some of the roughest of my boys amble in to some of the real low dives and see if anyone's hiring. I reckon, if there's that many of 'em, it's not that people don't know where they are; it's that they don't want the queen to know.”

The strategy paid dividends within days, with Six-toed Harl informing Yara that the raiding plot was in service to a displaced Lannister royal. They were robbing from the Dragon queen's allies to fund bribes and mercenaries in service to a challenge to the Iron Throne. To hear him tell it, half of the west was in on it. No wonder they hadn't had much to say to the queen's head guard.

Brienne couldn't believe it could be true. Even Cersei wouldn't do something so insane. The flames from the last battles of the war had barely cooled. She walked slowly through the docks, wondering which of the great shipping families of the city were actually supporting treason.

“Letter for you, my lady,” said a merchant seaman she'd never met before. A glace told her it was a note from Jaime. Her eyes widened when she realized what that meant – he somehow knew she was here. Could he be nearby? She read the letter quickly:

> Dear Wench,
> 
> How is married life? I believe your dragon queen has a bit of a soft spot for you and your lady wife. Nice of her to uproot centuries of tradition for you. Again.
> 
> Sorry I couldn’t attend the wedding, but allow me to give this bit of advice as my gift. Love and be loyal to one another and damn to the seven hells anyone who would doesn’t like it. It’s the best I’ve got. It’s working for now.

Brienne demanded quill and ink from the startled seaman and quickly scrawled a reply at the bottom.

> Are you behind the western troubles? They are using your family's name. Put a stop to it or the three children will have to.

She told the sailor, “Don't say anything, just return this to the sender. I don’t need to know where he is, I just need him to receive it as soon as possible.” She tipped him a gold piece to finish his work and depart with some urgency.

 

Now there was nothing to do but wait and … shop. Since her discussion with Yara about starting a family, Brienne had tried to keep alert for attractive looking men. For the longest time, she'd done so only begrudgingly and hadn't seen anyone who'd caught her eye. All of a sudden, however, things had started to change. She’d not minded looking around lately. It had felt rather like the bazaars in Essos, with the wares laid out for all to see. She'd shyly mentioned this to Yara who'd laughed and said that she'd wager she was ripe. Like most of what Yara said, it sounded scandalous and was probably true.

Finally, she saw a man who made her heart leap in her chest. At an earlier time, she might have convinced herself it was from fright. The blacksmith so resembled a young Renly it seemed supernatural. Some honest self-reflection revealed that what she was feeling was closer to lust than fear.

Convincing him was going to be Yara's job. Brienne still couldn't discuss sex without stuttering at best and freezing up at worst. “Be sure that he, um, we c-can w-”

Yara tossed her a naughty wink. “I've got this. If I can't convince a young red-blooded man to join the two of us in bed, then he has more in common with your Renly than just looks.”

Yara went into his smithing yard and gave the blacksmith a once-over. He was tall, black-headed, muscular, and didn't look too bright. Yara wondered how much of that was Brienne's type and how offended she should be.

“You got a sweetheart, handsome?” she asked. If he did, a four-some was not at all out of the question. In a way, it might be preferable...but he shook his head.

“Want one for the night?”

Gendry didn't think the woman looked like a whore, but who else would ask that kind of question? He seemed to have a way with women. He could find one when he needed, and he'd never had to pay.

Before he could reply, Yara pointed out Brienne. “See her? She's my companion for the long sea voyage we're getting ready to take. She enjoys being with me, and I've had her every way I can, but she said she'd like to know how it is with a man once.” The young man was soaking up every word, but seemed non-committal. “She's no maid, but her cunt's nice and tight. It'll give your cock a proper squeeze.” God knows that was true. She’d damn near dislocated her fingers before. “She thinks you're handsome. C'mon, don't break her heart.”

Well, Gendry, thought, neither of them were particularly pretty, but together it might be an experience worth having. The tall one looked strong, but he didn't have anything worth robbing; it was worth a shot. “Okay,” he replied, “at sundown.” He went back to his work, and when he looked up again, both women were gone.

“I think he could fit all the words he knows into one sentence, but at least that made him easy to convince,” Yara told Brienne. Brienne , who knew quiet didn't always mean stupid, nodded. Yara had done her part, now step two was mostly up to her.

 

Yara led Gendry into their room at the inn. It was the largest and most comfortable she'd been able to find, with a bed specifically designed with obese Lord Manderly in mind. It should hold the three of them when the time came. “You'll give us a few minutes, yeah? Let me get her warmed up for you. Just have a seat and enjoy the show.”

Yara turned her attention to Brienne. "Don't be nervous, love. We're going to make sure this feels good, me and Gendry here." Brienne was a lightweight in exactly one area – alcohol – and Yara had fortified her with two glasses of wine with dinner. Nevertheless, she still needed to be put at ease and then brought to a soft boil before Yara would be comfortable having him touch her.

"I'm ready," Brienne said, clearly not, as the nerves were apparent in her voice.

Yara leaned into Brienne and kissed her lightly on the lips, pulling flush with her body. She helped her out of the soft, linen dress she'd worn today. It was a little trickier than her standard tunic, but she'd wanted to dress like a woman for the smith, and Yara certainly wasn't going to object. Yara shamelessly discarded her own clothes in a heap, shucking off her smallclothes with her usual eagerness.

Yara took one of her wife's breasts in hand and began gently rubbing at her nipple. It hardened instantly, and she smiled at the evidence of her arousal. Her hands continued to move over Brienne's body, caressing her. She nudged her to lie down, never pausing in her gentle touches. Yara's lips trailed over Brienne’s jaw and down her neck, finally latching on and taking a nipple into her mouth. Brienne’s fingers traced over Yara’s skin from her arm down to her hip. 

Gendry watched intently as the women touched each other.  He hadn't known what to think when Yara had propositioned him, but no matter – he'd never have come up with this in a thousand years. He'd been living in the city for a while and wasn't entirely naïve about such things, but he'd never seen it in person before. Brienne sighed, and the sound sent a jolt of arousal straight to his cock. Yara continued sucking at her companion’s breast as her other hand moved lower, fingers separating her folds as she pressed and rubbed Brienne’s nub lightly. 

The sounds coming from Brienne intensified as Yara dipped her fingers into Brienne's wetness. She massaged the inside of her woman like her pleasure was the most important thing in the world to her. Brienne finally let go of the last of her inhibitions, bucking against Yara’s hand. When she came, she moaned Yara's name as her thighs contracted, showing off their taut musculature.  Yara continued through her peak, only pulling away as Brienne lay boneless and disoriented.

Yara kissed her deeply, murmuring that she should take a few deep breaths, it was almost time.

Gendry had become uncertain about what he was supposed to be doing here. It was a relief then when Yara walked back to ask, “Do you need help getting your breeches unlaced? Go on, pull it out.”

His cock was half-soft, but he knew he could prepare himself with no trouble. Not one to wait, though, Yara lowered her head to take Gendry into her mouth. His mouth dropped into an O as she used her exceedingly skillful tongue to bring him to full staff. Yara evaluated his member, pausing to trace her tongue around the rim. It was on the big side; long but not too girthy. Brienne could take that.

Yara brought him over and helped Gendry align himself with Brienne’s entrance. Yara moved next to Brienne on the bed and renewed her attention to her breasts, dipping her head to suck on her nipples, as Gendry slipped inside with the tip of his throbbing cock.  He almost collapsed on top of both of the women at the intensity. Mastering himself, he began slowly sliding in and out, a little deeper each time. She may not be a maid, but she was still so very tight, her walls gripping his cock with the delicious sensation of clenching.

Brienne would admit that it felt good, but very different. There was an undeniable feeling of stretching and a fullness that was just to the edge of uncomfortable. "That does not feel remotely the same,” she whispered into her wife's neck. “Please fuck me, Yara, make it feel right."

Reaching down with one hand between where Brienne and Gendry were joined, Yara started rubbing Brienne’s clit with well-practiced strokes. Soon, Brienne was moaning loudly again, hips starting to buck off the bed. This added fuel to Gendry's fire and he began thrusting into her harder.

“Let it come, Brienne,” Yara whispered as her fingers worked their magic on her clit.

“Yes, Seven Heavens...Yara, yes...”

Not long after Yara's name became familiar to their neighbors, Brienne tightened and her body shook, walls contracting around his cock. With a hard thrust, Gendry's vision went white and he spilled his seed inside her. Yara lunged forward, capturing Brienne’s mouth in hers. She kissed her hard, whispering, “It's done. You did it. I love you. You did so well,” over and over.

Yara finally disentangled herself from a dazed Brienne to address and equally disoriented looking Gendry. “Thanks, that was, ah, exactly what we were hoping for.” She had never felt so awkward after sex before in her life, and that included the time she and her partner hadn't shared a language. She decided to leave him with a piece of advice as payment. Bringing his attention to her clit, she said, “For the benefit of your future lady friends, this is the important bit. The cunt is nice, but pay some attention to this and she'll scream your name.”

Gendry hoped the tall woman had gotten what she wanted. His role had been briefer than he'd expected if ultimately satisfying. Still, it would be a tale to tell his mates, if he ever found them again.

 

> Dear Wench,
> 
> No – I have nothing to do with it. Her either [ _this was underlined three times_ ]. Damp down the flames; I will get to the bottom of it.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The success of their endeavor became apparent even before Yara and Brienne made it back to King’s Landing. Yara tried to keep her enthusiasm contained, but the growing magnificence of her lady’s bustline begged for comment. Finally unable to resist, she wrapped her hands around them and got a slap on the wrist for her troubles.

“They’re sensitive,” Brienne remarked, a little embarrassed.

“Let’s have a look,” Yara implored. Usually, Brienne’s breasts barely protruded off her muscular chest, but there were definitely more orb-like shapes developing now.

“I don’t want to go below decks. You feel the rocking of the sea more down there. It helps if I can stay in the fresh air.”

Yara shrugged as if to say ‘so?’ She failed to see any problem with unlacing her shirt above decks.

Brienne rolled her eyes. “Fine. But don’t touch.” Loosening her shirt helped, actually. She was able to hold on to her breakfast this time.

Yara stood closer, winding an arm around her waist. “Are you happy about it? I’ve got to admit, you’ve looked happier.”

“I was just thinking,” ( _Typical_ , Yara thought.) “It seemed like the Kingdoms were at peace; that we’d have a little bit of a lull. Now the west is about to break out in rebellion again, and the rumors coming from the north are getting nastier. Maybe it’s not a good time.”

“Darling, there’s no such thing. If you wait for the perfect opportunity, nine times of out ten you end up missing your chance. Besides, you’re the Princess of the Iron Islands, Lady Commander of the queen’s guard. If you can’t keep this baby safe, no one can.”

“Life must go on,” Brienne said thoughtfully.

“Goddamn right. Why bother with all the fighting and politics if you don’t have a life to come home to?”

 

When reporting to Queen Daenerys, Brienne downplayed her understanding of the conspiracy in the west as much as she dared. If the queen knew she was in contact with Jaime, she may demand she lure him into a trap. Varys watched her keenly, so he probably knew more about it than she did, and likely suspected she was leaving out one highly significant surname. She managed to delay any formidable response by promising that her inside informant would send them further information soon.

Jaime came through for her within the next week, which was fortunate. She’d tried to rationalize that her version of the story was still true in spirit, but the fact that she had misled the queen made her queasy, anxious and unsettled.

> Dear Wench,
> 
> I have spoken with some involved in the guise of a wealthy merchant. Promised money and support. Lying, but should curtail attacks while I string them along and figure out their scheme.
> 
> Some good news: I have a new daughter. I won’t tell you her name, but I’ll give you a hint. I named her for someone of quite opposite characteristics. Also, she’s very beautiful.
> 
>  

As the weeks drew on, peace did return to the west. It was only temporary, but the respite was welcome. Brienne had more immediate personal concerns. She had assumed that the mechanics of pregnancy would eventually interfere with her job. However, she hadn’t known that the exhaustion would cause her problems far sooner than an inability to fit into her armor. She found herself going to the docks, ostensibly to check for messages from the west, and taking a nap aboard the _Black Wind_ in the middle of the day. When she was too tired to remain standing during an extended small council meeting, she knew she had to take drastic steps.

“Your Grace, may I have a word?”

Daenerys nodded, trying to hide her fond smile. Her shy and proper Commander was having difficulties, it was clear.

“I’m going to have a baby,” she admitted, her soft voice growing quieter by the word. “May I appoint Ser Podrick Payne as my replacement?”

“First off, congratulations,” Daenerys said. Yara had told her approximately two minutes after they’d stepped off the ship, but she’d been politely requested not to take official notice. “Secondly, you may not.”

“Of course, whomever you choose will be fine.” Brienne was disappointed for Pod. He could fulfill most of the Commander’s duties better than the other knights or Daenerys’ bloodriders. The fighting part was still a work in progress, admittedly.

“There’s no reason for you to resign, Brienne. In fact, I don’t think you’re allowed to, according to the oaths.”

“I’m fairly certain we agreed to suspend parts of the oaths,” Brienne said, her embarrassment rising. “I am no longer competent to give you the best protection, Your Grace.”

“Do you think your only value to me is standing between myself and the business end of a sword? Here, in my castle? In my capitol?” She cupped a hand to her cheek. “Brienne, I value your counsel, your steadying influence. Have Podrick follow me around if it makes you feel better, but you are the one I want in the small council.”

Brienne’s gaze was pinned steadily on her feet. She was overcome with how well the queen had taken this, how generous she was being. Tears welled in her eyes. _Stupid emotions lately!_

“Now, go back to making the Spider crazy,” Daenerys said.

“Your Grace?” Brienne lifted her head, swallowing back her tears.

“He can’t figure out who the father is. It’s been bugging him for weeks. I should tell Yara to stop leading him astray. It’s become more mean than funny.”

 

Approaching the midpoint of the pregnancy, Brienne’s energy began to return even as her belly started to strain the limits on all her clothes. The baby began to move inside her. She made the mistake of pointing this out to Yara who then took every opportunity to poke at it for a reaction. Sometimes Brienne wanted to yell at her to knock it off, but then she’d remember the mornings she woke up to Yara talking adorably to her stomach. In those moments, she’d realize how blessed they were to bask in her affection.

Yara said she had asked the maester about sex _(of course she had)_ and it was fine right up to the end. It was fabulous, too. Some changes seemed to be in her bloodstream that made the highs higher and enhanced her endurance. Still, Brienne sometimes had to push Yara off of her sensitive breasts. They’d grown huge, by her standards, almost as big as Yara’s.

In the meantime, the west had remained quiet. The shipping lanes were open; taxes were being paid; all was well. One day, however, while trying to fulfill a particularly vicious craving for salted squid, Brienne was handed a note from a merchant ship fresh from Lannsiport.

> Dear Wench,
> 
> We need to meet. Can end it all in one strike. Bring a dozen knights by sea. Leave a message for Jonas at the _Lion’s Roar_ when you arrive. The bastards must pay. They are using Myrcella’s name! Will do it for free, but see if you can find some mercy in your queen’s heart for me and my family.

Brienne ran back to the keep to tell Daenerys of the message. She made it without slowing to an amble, but it was getting harder than she’d like to admit.

“Your Grace, I have news about the situation in the west. It seems that the time is ripe for a small investment of force. My friend believes he could bring the whole conspiracy down.”

“I see. And what do the Lannisters want in exchange?”

Brienne bit her lip. Of course she’d known. _How could I have been so stupid…_

“Brienne, you lie about as well as I swing a sword,” Daenerys said. “I know he was a friend of yours. You still wear his sword, for goodness sake.” Daenerys’ eyes went to Brienne’s belly. Her eyebrow quirked an unspoken question.

“No! No, he was,” she lowered her voice in case Varys had someone listening. It had been kind of fun dropping a new candidate every week or so. “He was a commoner; handsome though – with quite dark hair. You’ll see the proof soon enough, I imagine.”

“Don’t fear, I believe you. Now, what does Jaime Lannister request in order to bring peace to the west?”

“Pardons, for him and his sister. He just wants to live a peaceful life with his family. He’d do whatever you wanted for that chance. The rebels have been using his daughter Myrcella’s name as their figurehead. He’s so outraged, I’m amazed he managed to restrain himself from acting all on his own.”

“Cersei as well?” The former queen had fled rather than fight, so perhaps she was sufficiently broken.

“Yes, they have always been inseparable.” With anyone else, Brienne would have expressed disapproval of their relationship, but with Targaryens, you never knew. Yara had said she was discussing marriage with her nephew.

Daenerys considered the proposition. Brienne wasn’t nearly as clever as Tyrion or well-informed as Varys. She certainly wasn’t as skilled with her words as Missandei. However, she could always see the way to bring out the best in people. Daenerys had never known her to be wrong in that.

“Very well. Organize what you need and have Yara take you to Lannisport. I will sort out the details of the pardons with Tyrion by the time you’re ready to depart. He’ll have some opinions, I imagine.”

“Thank you, Your Grace!” Brienne exclaimed. She would have kissed her queen’s feet, had getting up again been a trivial proposition.

 

Brienne’s heart leapt at seeing Jaime sitting at a far table in the Lannisport tavern. He’d discarded his military bristle cut and austere uniform for the longer hair and fancier clothes of a tradesman. She approached him with a joy she couldn’t disguise.

“Good to see you again Ser…Jonas.”

“Likewise, have a seat.“ Jaime nodded perfunctorily at Brienne, meaning to get right to business. There would be time for celebrating their reunion when the traitors were dead. He did a double-take once he got a good look at her, however, “Wench, are you with child?”

Brienne ran her hands protectively over her rounding belly as she sat at the table. “Yes, I’ve about three months left.”

“That’s…surprising. Congratulations. And tell Yara well done. How did she-- never mind, I don’t want to know.” He was completely thrown, temporarily forgetting everything he’d worked toward for months. “I will say, I was impressed when she got you into her bed, but this is even more of an accomplishment.”

Brienne looked away blushing, not loving this line of conversation. “We discussed it, and-“

“You agreed to do all the work? Negotiation is not your strong suit, obviously. Suddenly I wonder if I could have gotten a castle as well as a pardon if I'd spoken to the Dragon Queen myself.”

“You would have gotten your head in a sack if you'd gone yourself. I actually did quite well by you. If the mission goes satisfactorily, your family will be awarded a free hold at Wood's Watch. They’re Tarth bannermen, traditionally, so-”

“Best behavior, or you’re held responsible, understood.”

“My father is the one who’d be held responsible, so very best behavior, please. And you’ll have to change your name to something new. Whatever you'd like. Within reason.”

Jaime had resumed evaluating Brienne’s belly. “That’s a lot of baby for three months out. Hope it’s not twins. Nothing but trouble, twins.”

Brienne had begun to wonder herself. She seemed to be expanding faster than other women. Of course, she was big generally, so maybe it could still be normal. “How is your little one?”

“She’s wonderful. I hope our children can play together someday when this is all over.”

His fond expression on thinking of his daughter brought instant tears to Brienne’s eyes. _Damnable overpowering emotions!_ She tried to blink them back and coughed to clear her throat. “Anyway, about this plot.”

“Right. The Crakehalls are behind it. They claim to have rescued Myrcella from Dorne and want to crown her the rightful queen. Really, it's just some girl they’ve been grooming, wanting to make her their puppet. Myrcella died in my arms, Brienne.”

“I know, Jaime, I know. They won’t get away with it.” The thought of watching her own child die made her bark out an involuntary sob that Jaime tactfully ignored.

“I’ve finally gotten myself invited to their keep. I figure a little misdirection and the rest of our soldiers can swarm in. Kill the Crakehalls, expose the girl, and this thing ends. Maybe have your queen send one of her dragons to melt their castle after the fact to drive the point home. I’d thought you’d be there to lead the soldiers, though, so I’m going to have to rethink a few things.”

Brienne opened her mouth.

"Don’t even start. Lady Greyjoy would skin me with a rusty paring knife if I so much as suggested that you guard the horses.”

“Are you more afraid of her wrath or mine?”

“What do you think? You can be reasoned with.”

Brienne snorted, knowing he was right. “Yara could lead, then. She’s not exactly disciplined, but she’ll have good instincts for a surprise attack. In fact, if you let her bring her own crew, she’ll kill the Crakehalls and rob them blind as well.”

 

Brienne didn’t like sitting out the battle. There was nothing to do but worry. She could imagine an endless parade of tragedy: a stray crossbow bolt, a lucky sword strike, a slingstone hitting Yara’s stubborn, helm-less head, and hundreds of other possibilities. She worried about her when she was at sea too, of course, but it was more personal here. At sea, they’d have to sink her whole ship to take her down. On land, it could be a stray crossbow bolt, a lucky sword strike…

Jaime, Yara, and the men arrived back at the _Black Wind_ , blood smeared and triumphant, carrying what sure looked like bags of plunder. They’d lost no one and eliminated the traitors root and branch. To hear Jaime tell it, it was the Reynes of Castamere all over again. The fake Myrcella, in truth a whore from the Reach, had been sent her away and threatened with a fate worse than death if she ever used the name again.

It was over. Jaime Lannister, or rather Jonas Mortlion was coming home. (Brienne had vetoed Lionheart. 'Dead lion', she allowed).

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skip the first scene if you’re squeamish.

Brienne lay in a strange little nest, her back and legs propped up by a variety of pillows. Sex had gotten complicated lately. She’d grown so large, she could barely get comfortable in any position. Still, Yara was ever a problem solver and had devised this arrangement. Presently, she was kneeling at the foot of the bed, exploring Brienne’s inner folds with her mouth. Brienne suspected this feeling would never get old.

The next thing that usually happened was Yara would massage her clit with her tongue and take it between her lips. The wonderful suction would bring her to a slow, monumental climax. This time, though, Yara rocked back on her heels. She ran her tongue along the inside of her gums and licked her lips.

“You taste funny,” she said. “A little sweet.”

_What do you say to that?_    “Um, sorry?”

Yara examined her wife’s privates more clinically. “I think you’re leaking, dear. There’s something running out of you. Do you feel any different?”

“No.” She’d felt the muscles in her belly tightening on and off for over a month now. Today hadn’t seemed stronger than before. Much.

Yara looked again. “Yeah. Unless you’re weeing yourself, your water’s leaking.”

“I’m not-“ A tightening hit her that was strong enough to cause her to make a face. “It’s not supposed to be for another couple of weeks.”

“Tell that to them. C’mon, we’re going to see the midwife.”

Yara helped Brienne stand, Brienne still protesting that she was fine. As soon as she was vertical, a rush of liquid ran down her legs. She looked down at Yara with embarrassed, frightened eyes. “Oh.”

 

They’d tried to keep up a brave front for Brienne’s sake, but among her friends, spouse, and sovereign ruler, there had been some worry behind the scenes. The pregnancy had progressed flawlessly; there was just so much of it.

Yara had told them, “I know she’s big, and strong, but like some parts of her aren’t as big as other parts. I’m meaning, some parts are downright tight, so I’m worried about how it’s going to get out.”

Daenerys and Tyrion had advised them to use a maester rather than a midwife to assist the delivery – Tyrion because he feared complications and Daenerys because midwifery was linked to witchcraft in her mind. However, once Yara had assaulted the Birth and Women’s Health specialty maester whom Daenerys had requested from the Citadel, the decision was made for them. The unfortunate maester cost himself his front teeth by remarking within Yara’s hearing that the baby had better be twins, otherwise it was going to kill the mother. They all knew he was right, but Yara hadn’t appreciated the way he’d said it.

They liked the midwife better anyway. Amma was a stolid, reliable woman, unperturbable by anything, even a nervous Ironborn. She claimed to have delivered hundreds of babies including dozens of sets of twins. She’d told the ladies that of course it was twins, couldn’t they feel the two separate heads? It all felt like one big lump to Brienne and Yara, but her confidence was reassuring.

 

Yara had sent the first maid she’d seen off to summon the midwife. This was clearly escalating beyond consulting with Amma to going straight to the birthing area. A first baby wouldn’t come too quickly, but it was still best to be ready. Even Brienne was starting to admit to some discomfort. Yara guided her down the stairs and out of the keep. They moved slowly, so Amma was waiting for them at the seaside.

“How drunk was I when I agreed to this?” Brienne asked.

“Stone cold sober, love.”

“How hard had you just fucked me, then?”

“Not _that_ hard,” Yara deliberately misinterpreted. It hadn’t been hard – that wasn’t how Brienne liked it – just comprehensive. She’d been limp as a Dornish noodle when Yara made her request. “It’s good for you, and the babies. They like coming out underwater. They’ve been swimming the whole time.”

“Why does it have to be salt water though? Or why can’t we put salt in a nice, warm bathtub.”  Brienne could hear the whinging in her voice too, and didn't like the sound of it either.

“The salt keeps you healthy, and the cold is good. It’ll make the pain less.”

“I swear, if there were sharks you’d say they’d be handy to clean up the afterbirth.”

“It _is_ supposed to be good luck if fish nibble on your toes.”

Amma put her hand on Brienne’s shoulder. “It’s not too cold; you’ll adjust quickly. She’s right about most of it, truly. Not sure about the fish.” She gave the mother-to-be a smile. In her line of work, the most important thing was to keep anyone from panicking. If everyone stayed calm, the body sorted it out most of the time. “You’ve got a long way to go yet. Relax, save your strength.”

The birthing pool was nice, not that Brienne wanted to admit that right away. It was deep, with rounded stones and a ledge to sit on. There were places to brace her legs. After a while, she realized it was perfectly designed for someone her size. Too perfectly.

“Yara, did you build this for me?”

“Me and the boys did, yeah. We wanted you to be comfortable.” She’d had to do something. The useless worrying and nervous pacing had been driving even her loyal crew insane.

“Thank you. It is helping. There’s not so much weight on my back. I can even breath easier. Ironborn are clever. I should know that by now.”

Yara came over to kiss her and found herself clutched tightly.

“Sorry, that one hurt a little,” Brienne admitted. From then on, Yara was never more than an arm’s length away, always ready to hold or distract her as needed.

“It feels different,” Brienne told the midwife after a while. The pains were worse, but also stranger. There was a sensation of contact in a part of her body that no one – not even Yara – had managed to reach.

“Let’s see.” Amma examined her, then called Yara over. “Feel that?”

Yara brought her hand between Brienne’s legs, and her eyes went wide. “Baby hair?”

“That’s right. Time to push, dear.”

Brienne braced her legs and bore down. She was good at separating her body from pain, at breathing through it and retaining her focus. She pushed hard in sync with her body, once, twice, and again. Then, there was a bizarre feeling of motion from below. Yara squealed for her to open her eyes.

_By the gods, they really do swim._

Yara lifted the boy out of the water, looking both exultant and terrified. Amma efficiently tied and clipped the cord. “Hold him close ‘til we get the other one out. Then we’ll wrap everyone up nice and warm.”

His brother came a few minutes later, strikingly similar in appearance. “I thought so,” Amma said, “they were in the same sack. Packed in together like that it’s why you had trouble feeling them both.”

Yara held both babies, trying to let Brienne see them, and support their necks, and keep them warm all at the same time. They didn’t like to be separated, and their fussing only calmed when she wrapped them in a blanket together.

Amma quietly thanked the gods. That was the biggest set of twins she’d ever seen. Praise the Warrior the mother had been so strong. Praise the Stranger for keeping his distance. Praise the Mother she hadn’t had to use her knife.

 

The court spent much of the day cooing over Brienne and Yara’s twins, identical black-haired, blue-eyed boys. Daenerys presented them with an embarrassment of rich gifts. She said it was only fitting because they were little lords, one of Tarth, the other of the Iron Islands. (No one was fooled by that; she just liked babies and would be equally generous to Irri’s child born later that year). Tyrion joked that Brienne must have secretly borne them a month ago, they were so big. Irri and Jhiqui agreed that identical twins were a sign of good fortune. It was known.

“We need to get their names sorted by the end of the day,” Yara said, holding a baby it was becoming awkward to refer to as ‘the first one’ while Brienne nursed ‘the second one.’

“Well, it was to be Galladon if it was a boy. So how about Galladon and Theon?”

“Theon? What does he have to do with it?”

“I was just trying to be fair; naming after brothers.”

“Nah, the Iron Islands doesn’t need two Theons in a row as their sovereign. Nor another Balon. I think something new would be better. How about Jaime? He named his after you.”

“I don’t think Daenerys wants to be reminded of him constantly.” Brienne’s face lit up. “Yaron. How’s that for new?”

“Galladon and Yaron. There’s some music in that.” Yara didn’t even try to hide how pleased she was. The boys were beautiful, healthy, fat, and strong. Brienne was going to be fine. She could have lots more babies, Amma said, not that Yara was going to mention that for a while.

 

There were voices coming from the outer room. Brienne lay still, pleased to have a moment to herself. She hadn’t gotten this many hours of sleep in a row since the day the babies were born. Yara’s cackling laughter echoed back through the door.

“She was a good, proper girl; it was all my fault. Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t marry her right away. We had a continent to conquer, though.” _Uh oh, who is she talking to?_

“To be fair, she broke bones in the last fellow she was engaged to, so I think you were brave to ask at all.” _Jaime! How had he heard so quickly? He must have a spy at court – probably named Yara. I hope he brought Little Brienne along._

“I was smart. We kept our engagement real short, like a minute, so she never had the chance.”

“She wouldn’t hurt you for the world. You should hear how she talks about you behind your back. My judgmental, obstinate swordswench is all of a sudden dripping with hearts and flowers. It’s sickening.”

Brienne started the slow process of getting out of bed. She still ached between her legs and was bleeding as if from the heaviest moon’s blood of her life. Perfectly normal, Amma had said. Still, she couldn’t wait for her body to get back to the way it was before. She rather hoped she got to keep her new bosom, though.

“You should have seen her when she was pushing twenty pounds of babies out her nethers. I thought she was going to wring my neck.”

“I do not understand how you convinced her to have children.” _Who was that? Father!!_ “She’d never aspired to be a mother before.”

“What can I say, I’m good with my tongue,” Yara bragged.

_Oh dear gods, please let me get in there before she elaborates. In front of my father._ Brienne shuffled as quickly as she could to the bedroom door, and opened it to greet her large, happy family.

 


End file.
